


Logs on the Fire (Fill Me with Desire)

by NoelleAngelFyre



Series: Twelve Fics of Christmas 2020 [9]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Body Worship, Drabble, Emotional Sex, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Implied/mild sexual content, Introspection, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28229970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleAngelFyre/pseuds/NoelleAngelFyre
Summary: The fire is hot at her side, but nothing will compare to the heat of Mick's body.
Relationships: Mick Rory/Caitlin Snow
Series: Twelve Fics of Christmas 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043328
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Logs on the Fire (Fill Me with Desire)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Merry Christmas, Darling". Comments and kudos are love! :)

The fire is hot at her side, but nothing will compare to the heat of Mick’s body: thick muscle and hot blood bearing down over her, as much a protective barrier from the outside world as the nest of ill-gotten pillows and blankets or the firepit crackling bright to chase away any hint of winter chill.

Mick’s shirt is tossed to some vague corner of the room and Caitlin’s blouse – candy-apple red for the holiday, for the baubles on the tree, for the tiny candles sprinkled across the hearth – hangs open off her shoulders. He initially began the descent from her throat to waist as urgent, a frantic need to _touch_ after finally having her here, with him, in this moment, but then Mick got distracted by her breasts, full and warm and _soft_ , and hasn’t finished the journey.

The light scratch of her nails across his nape – an experimental touch with inspiring results – breaks his reverie and he huffs amusement, realizing his own folly, “Sorry.”

He doesn’t sound remotely apologetic, but she expected nothing less. He is remorseful for nothing in life: raw in his emotions, ruthless in his pursuits, and utterly devoted to his passions. It has taken Caitlin weeks, months rather, to appreciate that _she_ is his newest passion – adored and coveted as the rarest jewel; worshipped with the same piety as fire. She _is_ fire, or so Mick whispers into her hair, her throat, the delicate slope where hip meets thigh, and finally the place where his adulations reach a frenzied pinnacle and his mouth serves an entirely different purpose beyond whispered praise.

The fire projects shadows in intimate display across the walls, partially along the floor, and prominently over the broad span of muscled arms, back, and shoulders. Her hands otherwise useless, Caitlin manages to fix a trembling grip there, where naked skin is interrupted by the bubbled texture of fire’s immortal imprint. The scars no longer possess the fierce red glare of before, barely a year old under her carefully controlled observation, but his skin always runs so hot that it feels fresh. An inferno spreading outward and enflaming every inch of his body.

His beautifully battered and gloriously imperfect body. She can no longer hide her fascination of it. Her longing to learn the contrast of scars to her unmarred skin in a manner which most certainly bypasses any clinical curiosity. In this, he is more than happy to oblige: he touches her as though he will never get another chance, kisses various parts of her anatomy as though starved for it, and, at last, makes love to her as though she is the only thing he has ever seen, ever wanted, ever _needed_ in this life.

“Snowflake,” he groans, kissing her neck, and grips her hip a little tighter.

“Mine,” he groans, both at the way her legs loop at his waist and the way her fingers urgently slot between his, holding their hands entwined on either side of her tussled curls.

“ _Caitlin_ ,” he comes with her name a breathless prayer on his lips, wrecked and raw and staring at Caitlin like she’s everything good in his life.

It’s fitting. After all, he’s everything good in hers.


End file.
